


freckles

by niyuha



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bottom GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dom Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Flustered Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Flustered GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Freckles, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Smut, Sub GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Top Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Webcam/Video Chat Sex, again for like .5 seconds, dream likes george’s lips a whole bunch, for like .5 seconds - Freeform, i feel like we don’t talk enough to about george’s freckles, well there’s a lot of plot but i guess not really, when i mean light dom/sub undertones i mean like it’s only there for a moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niyuha/pseuds/niyuha
Summary: george and dream’s friendship has been pushing the line between romantic and platonic as of late.dream’s rap battle against george during a jackbox stream seems to disregard that line completely
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 532





	freckles

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i didn’t expect this to end up like this at all, i never plan anything i write so i end up just writing what comes to mind. i just started thinking about george’s freckles one day and now here i am writing 8,000 words of sexual tension and phone sex so ayo.
> 
> please ignore grammar mistakes i’m really tired of trying to make this perfect when this is my ticket into hell

It was no secret that George was a pretty pale guy. 

By genetic law, it seemed that characteristic would be something he would carry with him as long as his physical body remained. Living in such a gloomy city such as London didn’t help either. The sun, especially in the Earth’s cooler months, was the city’s fabled myth. Seeing the burning star in it’s full glory, compared to the rays that managed to slip through the heavy clouds was as rare as winning lottery tickets three times in one day. 

In other words, George couldn’t tan, thanks to genetics and geographic location. 

He also contributed to his lack of pigment by locking himself in his room, subjecting himself to Twitch streams spanning five hours over in the early mornings of England. When he was a student in uni, he couldn’t remember a time where he wasn’t out and about with friends or partying until stars speckled his vision. Yet somehow, someway, he ended up becoming a hermit, his pasty complexion being the only remaining attribute that connected George to that sort of life. 

He was just pale. 

Being this pale only brought attention to a lot of George’s features. For example; his hair. Auburn (and slightly stiff) head hair rested against the complexion of George’s forehead, the palest part of the Brit’s body next to his thighs. On anybody else’s body, the deep color wouldn’t stand out as much, nor would it provide the most color to their faces, however that case was not for George. In his opinion, the stark contrast between his hair and eyebrows were what kept his face interesting to anybody who looked at him. 

Similarly, just as there were things that were noticeable due to the Brit’s skin tone, there were things that were often hidden. 

Like his freckles. 

George didn’t know he had freckles for the longest time. He thought freckles only developed from extreme exposure to sunlight. And being an introverted Twitch streamer living in London, England, as previously discussed, that was hardly possible. There weren't many, but on one side of his face, small specks of darkened skin formed a small space of facial marks right on the bridge of his nose. The only possible way to know that he had more than his pale complexion was if you were right on his face, or zoomed in extremely close on photos taken by him. Even George didn’t know about his freckles until someone pointed them out. The way was odd but considering who said it, he should’ve expected it. Who is this person you might ask? 

If you guessed Dream, you’d be completely correct. 

* * *

It was another late morning for the Brit, the clock on his phone reading as **_05:00 AM_ **as he started closing up his stream. Quackity had invited him and the rest of the feral boys to another Jackbox game. As repetitive as the content got, somehow with his group of friends, George never could pass up something like that. Even if his eyes were protesting his brain’s plea to enjoy a few more seconds of this game. He was sure the rest of the gang could tell that George was becoming tired, responses being short or inconsistent. Not to mention, his bars in Rap City were far worse than usual. George didn’t want to mention that he was half way into his dreamscape to his friends, knowing them they would just say that George was lying to get out of being roasted for the next battle. He didn’t blame them, he often used the excuse that he was going to go to sleep when things didn’t go his way in the stream. Most, keyword, most of the times, that was the case but at the moment, it was far from. 

Speaking of the next battle, George didn’t even know who he was battling again. He had zoned out so hard that he didn’t seem to catch his opponent. He blinked himself back to his computer screen, eyes staring at the declining time like he had the powers to change the numbers into giving the brunet more time. 

_Shit._

In his head, he already knew he was going to be flamed for the lack of interaction he’s had with the guys for the past twenty minutes, he REALLY didn’t want to be flamed for his wack ass rhymes. Not like it would matter much, being the group’s punching bag didn’t give you a moment of serenity. He read the timer again and realized he had far less time than before. 

_That is how timers work, George._

He thought to himself. He let out a low groan, getting to typing just about anything that could come to his sleep deprived mind. 

“Ooooh George what you groaning about? Already know you’re gonna lose?” The voice tha5 came through George’s headphones belonged to Quackity, his brain so eloquently concluded. He knew they couldn’t see his face, but he still provided an eye roll to show his annoyance. “I didn’t know we were doing another round. When I looked up from my phone the timer had already started.” The white lie the Brit sprinkled in only fueled Quackity’s teasing, a loud cackle starting off with the other’s response. “Bullshit George! You were not on your phone this entire time!” 

_Well he’s not wrong._

“He just knows he’s gonna get drilled by Dream in this next battle.” Karl spoke in turn, not recognizing the innuendo that just slipped from his mouth. If he did do it on purpose, it certainly got a response from the four other men, one of those men of course being Dream himself. “Drilling George? Now I wouldn’t go that far but maybe…” George could tell by the tone the younger man used that he was smirking. The thought of seeing that stupid lip quirk made George’s sleepy brain buzz alive with the serotonin it had been provided with. “The pandering has already started I see, cool cool.” Chimes in Sapnap, who has already submitted his rap for fourth place against Karl. “The pandering has been going on for the past two hours, actually. There are already several people writing fan fictions.” Karl sighs, a laugh escaping him as he did. George couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

Eventually, time ran out, and George barely made his lines in before it did so. He still had no clue who he was competing with, going with the safe bet and just roasting on Quackity. The typical “Quackity’s short” or “guys please” line just to get this game over with so he could pass out next to Cat in his warm comforter. His eyes glanced over to his current goal, soft and waiting with a sweet little white kitty plopped in the middle of it all. 

_Soon my dear, soon_

George figured his fatigue was getting the best of him. 

When the lineup popped up on screen, George quickly scanned to try and find his own username, blandly labeled “George”. His eyes shifted over to the right, curious as to who he had to go up against. 

In bold and impacted font sag the username ‘Dream’, gluing itself onto George’s sight like a warning label. Oh shit, he definitely didn’t prepare for that. He felt something bubble up inside him, unaware if it was fear or anxiety. Knowing him, it was probably a bit of both. 

As everyone knows, George and Dream were close. They were best friends after all. And despite their pandering and flirty remarks, they were just that, best friends. However, George started to realize that something in their relationship had shifted. That their dynamic was far more than just bros being bros, instead, it felt more like bros being homo. And no that was no joke. Dream would say things like he did before, the drilling comment, or straight up talk about dating George in front of thousands without much care in the world. When George denied him of his Valentine’s Day request, Dream had called his mom saying they broke up, and that same night posted private photos of George to Twitter like some doting boyfriend. Even moments off screen would consist of Dream sending him videos or pictures that remind him of the older man, and for the most part, they were all videos about George being pretty. Or Dream just flat out saying it in a call with just George, no live streams or pestering buddies to document the incidents. 

There were many odd things that Dream had been doing recently when it came to George. 

And for some reason, George had _liked_ it. 

He liked how personal and clingy Dream had gotten as of late. He always figured himself to be the clingier one of their friendship, sticking by Dream’s side (through Discord and game plays) whenever he had felt anxious. With the whole hoodie situation, he even admitted to spraying it with Dream’s own cologne to feel as if the man was there with him. He never liked saying right out, but he was clingy. So it was refreshing to know Dream was as well. Or possibly was, he wasn’t about to assume. 

But it was the problem of how far was too far? The two of them never really discussed sexuality or their relationship being more than that of two very close friends with a mutual respect for one another. For all George knew, this still was all a bit to Floridian. And because of the uncertainty of it all, George simply acted like it was typical banter between the two of them. Just heightened by a whole bunch. 

Once again, George found himself zone out of focus when it came to the stream. He was so deep in his mind about his current Dream situation that he missed the Karl vs. Sapnap battle. From how Quackity was screaming, Karl’s silence, Sapnap's barks and Dream’s wheezes of the word “what?”, George could assume that Sapnap had a line that won him the entire round. 

George figured he could be a detective with his hypothesis skills because that’s exactly what happened. Karl suffered a crushing defeat to Sapnap, losing nine percent to ninety-one percent. This just riled the boys up even more, causing Karl to come out of his stunned silence. “Come on, that line wasn’t that good you guys!” His attempt at trying to defend himself fell on deaf ears, for one was half asleep and the other three were insulting him like a bunch of teenagers. 

“You’re literal dog water? Boxed like a fish?” Quackity questioned into the mic, George catching how the chat was replicating the phrase in their speed. The rest of the boys continued to give Karl a hard time, who was just saying things along the lines that he was going to call off the wedding between him, Sapnap and Quackity if the bullying continued. George didn’t pay no mind, focusing on the graphic that he was shown through Quackity’s shared screen. 

**NEXT ROUND**

**GEORGE VS. DREAM**

Even at the mention of the two of them, chat was going insane, different renditions of Dream and his ship name shooting through Twitch. Due to how fast the chat was going, he couldn’t pinpoint any exact comment but he could tell that everyone was happy to see the pair, since it usually ended in homoeroticsim. “George is going to lose hardcore.” Dream chuckled into the mic, George ignoring the buzzing of his veins at the way Dream said those words. “You always say that.” Was what George’s brain could provide, head shaking in slight disbelief, and a silly attempt to rid his mind of any ridiculous thoughts. “And I always come out on top.” The blond shot back, that damn smirk still heavily in his tone. 

“Hey lovebirds, it’s starting.” Sapnap shouted through the mic, alerting the both of them that their round had indeed started during their banter. George was first, which wasn’t uncommon in a battle against Dream. And like he had done many times, he began reading off his lines. 

**_I’m gonna play your game, but best believe I’ll win._ **

**_You can try to fight me, if you want to be in last place, man._ **

**_You’re too short to reach first place, call you Quackity._ **

**_Sitting on my throne like I was in the Dream SMP._ **

For not knowing who was his opponent and being sleep deprived, he thought he did rather okay. Kind of basic but he wasn’t known for hard hitting lines. At least it seemed to please his friends and the chat, since neither of them were quiet in their support for George’s bars. The only one who wasn’t howling was Dream, who was just chuckling to himself. “I’ll give it to you George, that was good.” The younger man praised, the feeling from before blossoming in the elder’s chest. He liked being praised by Dream, even if it was as simple as a “that was good”. It felt nice knowing that a man who could do so much more than he could was able to recognize his own abilities. That tone of voice Dream always used when praising George helped out a bunch, always so soft and sweet, like he crafted the words especially for the brunet. George suppressed a sigh. 

God what was with him today?

“Think you can top _that,_ Dreamie?” George teased, his own smirk working on to his face. He watched the video game graphics switch over to the other man’s robotic avatar. “Oh Georgie, I can top just about anything.” Dream replied with, sending the boys, the chat, AND George into a state of shock. 

_Did I hear that right?_

There wasn’t much time for George to question the boy further, for Dream had started his rap rebuttal. 

**_That mouth of yours can’t seem to make a rhyme that isn’t shitty._ **

**_So let’s put it to use someplace else, bet you’d look so pretty._ **

**_Your freckles look like the perfect place to finish upon._ **

**_Fucked literally and lyrically, just admit that I have won._ **

The stunned silence that Dream’s lines had left upon the rest of the Discord call was thick, everyone unaware of they should comment on how...racey the bars were or completely lose it because of how insane they were. 

George’s silence was far worse than that of the others, brain processing what he was just told. He was so glad he didn’t have face cam on, his face flushed with a pigment his eyes couldn’t depict. His body trembled from the extreme heat that shot through him. His fingers twitched over his phone screen, thumbs frozen mid air as he just stared at the screen in front of him. Did Dream just say that? In front of two hundred thousand people? If he really did, why?

And an even bigger question, _why was George turned on by it?_

George’s eyes drifted down to his sweatpants, feeling the blood from his face rush into space between his thighs. The lines Dream had thought of and _said_ were so graphic, even if much wasn’t said. Those four lines of texts were far more than enough to leave the brunet’s imagination run wild, images of highly inappropriate scenes featuring him and his best friend practically glued to the back of his eye lids. White teeth escaped his dry mouth, opting to bite and tear at his bottom lip, trying his damnedest to not indulge in those fantasies. Especially not on a stream. 

Eventually when voting came up, that’s when the rest of guys seemed to be kicked back to life. “Holy shit, PANDERING!” Quackity exclaimed, cackling in the view of his camera. Karl and Sapnap joined him, trying to get their words of praise out to the Floridian. “Dude what the fuck?! You’re not allowed to write softcore porn to win!” Sapnap snickered, placing his vote to his childhood best friend as he did. Dream’s low hum rang through the Brit’s headphones, sending more vibrations through his small body. “Well I did say I was gonna win. What better way to win than going to the extreme.” The blond replied with, watching as the voting timer ticked down it’s seconds. 

George had yet to say anything about the other’s rap verse, currently focusing on trying to not let his unwanted arousal control what he said. 

“I didn’t know George had freckles to do that on.” Karl provided the conversation, finishing up with his vote, leaving George to be the only one who had yet to do so. Dream laughed quietly at Karl’s statement, speaking for the stunned Brit. “He does. They’re on the bridge of his nose. They’re cute once you spot them.” George’s own hand raised to his nose, touching the protruding bone where his alleged freckles lay. 

That’s the spot where Dream wanted to finish on? The center of his face? 

George’s thighs squeezed together at the thought. 

_What the fuck…?_

Voting had finished, ultimately skipping over George since he took too long, lost in his thoughts past the recognition of reality. With no surprise, Dream had won, the numbers incredibly ratioed against the older man. The blond let out a shout of victory, followed up by a “Let’s GO!!” as his points racked him up to first. The Discord chat was in hysterics, saying that Dream shouldn’t have won due to his excessive pandering. Dream didn’t care, saying he won as fair as he possibly could. George realized he still hasn’t said anything since his rap, speaking up for the first time in the past five minutes. 

“That was a good one Dream.”

As lame as the sentence was, it was a casual response to your best friend saying they wanted to fuck and cum on your face. 

“Thanks, George. See, even the guy I went against is okay with my win, I’m sure you can be too.” 

The fight over the logistics of Dream’s win still continued to happen, even during Quackity’s battle against Gene. George instead was focusing on the developing thoughts in his head. In the very end, it didn’t matter, because Dream still ended up being the winner. 

“Suck on that, bitches!” The Floridian cackled, the sound bouncing off of George’s ear drums with a slight reverb. George had to bite his tongue from saying something stupid in return, knowing his arousal simply wanted to add more fuel to the fire. 

The brunet was glad that Quackity was so pissed about Dream’s crushing victory that he wanted to end the stream, not even giving the boys a heads up before he straight up left the Discord chat to thank the stream for watching. The rest of them took this as their time to head out, Karl and Sapnap leaving at the exact time since they had something planned with each other before the stream. 

George had a hunch that those two had something going on between them, especially as of late. They always joined and left streams at the same time with the excuse of having to do something with each other. It could just be a joke between the two of them, but George figured there had to be something more. 

“Karl and Sap are acting weird aren't they?”

George felt himself jump in his seat, completely forgetting that he wasn’t the only one left in the voice call. 

Dream was here with him. 

His declining arousal seemed to shoot right back up at the sound of the other man’s voice. God damn it. 

“Uh yeah, I was just thinking the same thing.” The British man spoke, coughing a bit after his statement. Dream let out an acknowledging hum, not sparing much more to the conversation. George felt the energy between them shift slightly. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but boy was it heavy with tension. George didn’t know if he should mention the events that transpired today, especially not ever a Discord chat that anyone could join at any time. 

Dream seemed to notice this hesitation from the other man, speaking for the both of them when he asked, “Want to FaceTime?” 

George and Dream knew that FaceTiming was just George’s face on display to a black or empty screen. It wasn’t anything new to them, hence why it was just commonplace to do it. Plus due to their places of residence, neither of them wanted to pay international fees for phone calls. The brunet nodded to the suggestion, sort of forgetting that the blond couldn’t see him just yet. “George?” 

“Shit, yeah sorry. I nodded, but I forgot you can’t see me.” The Brit mumbled, listening to the deep rumble of a laugh from before. “Pretty in the face, dumb in the head I see.” The teasing praise that Dream responded with sent a wave of attraction through George, unable to hide the bit of whine in his tone as he replied. “Dream…” 

“I’ll call you, just leave the VC.” Was all that Dream provided, following his own advice before leaving George alone with his thoughts for the time being. He could already tell this FaceTime call was going to be different than their typical ones. And George couldn’t seem to decipher if that was a good or bad thing. 

Following in Dream’s footsteps, he left the Discord VC and picked up his phone, waiting for the American’s contact to come through. He got onto his bed, his previous wish of going to sleep long forgotten as he tried to get comfortable in the comforter that was calling his name previously. He didn’t notice this until he got into bed but Cat must’ve left sometime during the stream, for she was nowhere to be found in the man’s bed. George wished this wasn’t the case, he needed his baby to come and calm him down, to help calm the nerves and slight ache in all parts of his body. 

But alas, Cat was not here to help her own father out. 

George felt like years had passed between the time Dream told him he would call to the time George got into his bed. It could have been more than a few minutes but George was antsy. He had no idea why, but he was. As if the heavens heard his prayer, his solution and his problem flashed across his screen, being followed by a familiar beeping tone. 

The ringtone didn’t get a reprise, for George had picked up the call. The call connected and soon George was met with a blank screen. He heard movement over his phone speaker, figuring the man on the other line was getting comfortable as well. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

George stared at the device in his hands, thumbs pressing against the edges of the case protecting it. “Did you want to talk about something in particular, Dream?” He asked, the silence between them far too heavy for him to deal with at the moment. Usually during their calls, they talked about everything and nothing. They both had so much to talk about, even if they did just spend hours in a stream together. Yet right now, in this moment, normalcy was far from their reach. The tension was far too heavy for it to be. 

“Well I did want to ask you about the stream. About my rap.” 

George swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn’t know he was anticipating this moment until now. George figured there would be no point in hiding his enjoyment of the man’s words, he found it hard to lie to his best friend. He wondered how Dream would react to him admitting such a thing, that his words had ignited a fuse inside of the brunet’s body. That his body had responded in such a vulgar way in the presence of their mutual friends and fans. The shiver that shot down the British man’s spine at the thought, just waiting for Dream to finish his statement. 

“I just wanted to ask if I pushed too far or whatnot. If I did, I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I did that. It was just the heat of the moment thing. And I know you’re okay with shipping and pandering with our ship but that definitely crossed the line. And I’m very sorry about that, George. ” Dream mumbled, voice booming through the phone speaker from how close the man’s lips were to his microphone. George blinked at the wall in front of him as he heard the Floridian babble his apology, his thoughts coming to a halt as he listened on. 

Dream was _apologizing_?

He expected the unexpected, but this was not George’s unexpected. 

_Of course Dream was going to apologize you sex deprived idiot. It was a joke. A very inappropriate joke._

He wanted to punch himself for assuming that this call was going to end up in any way that wasn’t platonic. He ended up reading the energy between the two of them completely wrong and developed his own desired outcome. Horny George set out to embarrass rational George it seemed, and he just succeeded at that. Without much thinking, he let out a low groan, face being covered up his own hands as he felt reality wash over his body. He wanted to dig himself a grave and never come out. 

“George?”

Dream, poor sweet Dream, sounded concerned over the line at the noise the Brit had let out. George wanted to do nothing but punish himself for the next millennia for assuming that their already confusing relationship was going to branch into something sexual. “Sorry, just hit my knee.” He lied, giving himself some time before he came up with his response to the apology. “You’re alright Dream, I didn’t mind. Just shocked me a bit, you’ve never been so...sexual before with our shipping situation.” He muttered, setting his phone beside his head, setting Dream’s view towards his ceiling. “Yeah that’s why I came to apologize. It was a bit much.”

The two then sat in a silence of some sort. To George, it was awkward and uncomfortable. He couldn’t get over the fact that he misread this entire phone call’s purpose. He didn’t know why he thought the recent developments in their relationship was the go ahead to think phone sex was on the table. 

This just brought more questions towards the surface for George. Specifically, on how he felt about his best friend. Not everyone wants to be with their best friend in the way George was hoping to be. Not everyone becomes disappointed when flirting and sweet remarks are disregarded as banter and nothing more. Not everyone’s heart fluttered when their best friend tells you that they love you. 

“George, you still there?” 

The older man looked towards the source of the sound, the phone right next to his ear. Oh yeah, this damn FaceTime call. 

“Yeah I’m here.”

_Regretfully so._

“Well did you hear what I asked you?”

“I can’t say that I did.”

“I asked you why you sound upset at my apology.”

George’s brow furrowed as he listened to the question. He thought he hid his disappointment rather well. Then again it was Dream, the man he’s known for over five years, he’s gonna pick up on every inflection of his voice. 

“I wasn’t upset with your apology.”

_Disappointed? Yeah._

“Well you sounded it.”

“Dream, I assure you I’m not upset with you or your dumb apology.”

“If you’re not upset with it why did you call it dumb?”

George didn’t hate much about Dream, if anything he thought his best friend was a perfect being with a heart of gold. But if there was one thing that annoyed him to the highest extent was his persistence. With past frustration, it only fueled the fire for his word vomit. 

“Jesus christ, Dream! What do you want me to say? That your apology pissed me off because it proved that what you said was just a joke and nothing more?! Is that what you want to hear?”

He had shot up from the spot he was laying in by that point, staring down at the device on the pillow next to him. Only his eyes were exposed to the camera below him, the black screen Dream was projecting giving the older man a glimpse at his own reflection. His brain didn’t catch up to what his mouth said until a few moments after, eyes widening as it hit him. “Shit...fuck…” The man whispered, moving away from his phone as if it were to burst in his face. Slender hands covered auburn eyes, shielding them from the physical reality of the situation before him. 

He had yet to hear a response from the man on the phone, radio silence coming from both ends. George wanted to choke himself out. Why did he say that? He had always been careful with the words and phrases he used with Dream, even in states of drug and alcohol influenced inebriation. So why now can’t he keep his fat mouth shut? He had to fix this somehow, otherwise his emotional outburst is going to be the end of his most valued relationship. 

“Dream, I-I...damn um...I didn’t mean—“

“George, don’t lie to me.”

The British man was cut off so suddenly by a deeper voice, obviously belonging to the American. He peaked out between his fingers, looking to the phone as if it was Dream himself. 

“Huh?”

“We both know you meant that, there’s no reason to pretend like you didn’t, George.”

George’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, anxiety heavy on his bones. He didn’t dare respond, looking everywhere but the source of the voice. 

A chuckle was heard through the phone speaker, not helping the British man in the slightest. “Your silence speaks a whole lot, George.”

_Why does he keep saying my name like that?_

“Because that’s your name, am I not wrong, George?”

Fuck, did he say that out loud?

The older man swallowed the lump in his throat as he willed up his next words. “Look, I’ll pull a you and apologize. We can just forget this ever happened and never talk about it again—“

“Oh no I don’t think we can do that.”

George’s eyes shifted to the phone, confused evident in the facial expression that the other could not see. 

“What—“

“You sound far away, George. Come a bit closer, please.”

George didn’t know why followed such a command so willingly, but he did, crawling closer to his phone microphone as he was instructed. 

He expected a lot of things to happen here, things such as Dream laughing at him for thinking that words in a video game were going to end up as a reality. Or start yelling at George for being a damn weirdo and getting upset over such a thing. 

But…

“Good boy.”

Was _everything_ he least expected.

George’s face flared a deep red, jaw going slack at the two words that left Dream’s mouth. He tried ignoring the way his body trembled from the words of praise, and definitely ignored the way his blood travelled lower.

“Uh, Dream…?”

“Yes, George?”

He could tell that other’s voices had dropped significantly lower than before, the rumble of his tone running straight down between his legs. 

“What are you doing?”

“I haven’t done anything yet, Georgie.”

_That damn pet name should not be hot in a situation like this._

“Yet?” 

George heard the other shift in his bed, the black screen that was there for the previous twenty minutes now replaced with the bed sheets of the man. “Well assuming by your outburst, you didn’t want me to apologize for my rap because you enjoyed the idea of it, am I not wrong?” 

George didn’t answer. 

That was enough for Dream. 

“And I can’t lie, the rap was barely a joke. I just needed to pass it off as one.” The blond held that same tone, louder than before from the position of his microphone. “It is kind of hard to pass off wanting to get top from your best friend as a joke though, wouldn’t you agree?”

George nodded, forgetting once again that the American couldn’t see him. “Uh, yeah…” 

“The guys bought it, and I was sort of hoping you would too.” Dream continued on, the calmness in his tone unnerving and exciting George all in the same breath. “Why is that?” He dared to ask, hands folding onto the top of his thighs. “Again, I don’t know how I’m supposed to explain the urge I have to fuck your face without ruining our friendship.”

George felt his breath hitch at the vulgarity of Dream’s words, suppressing the urge to let out a noise of want. “Well…since we’re being truthful…” George started, listening to the American laugh quietly. “I didn’t take it as a joke until you apologized for it.” The laughs from the other stopped. 

“Really?”

“Mhm.” George let out a breath of air, preparing himself for the next confession that was to come out of his mouth. It was now or never. “I actually thought you wanted to call me to um...god this is so embarrassing.” He grumbled, hiding his face in his hands once again. “Come on now, I just told you I wanted to fuck your face and now _you’re_ getting embarrassed?” The younger teased, not missing the whine that came from the elder’s lips. “Shut up! You say extreme things about me all the time, it’s different…” George huffed, trying his hardest to not listen to the wheeze on the other line.

“Baby, come on I’m just teasing you.”

George’s body went rigid at the pet name. “Don’t call me that…” He whispered weakly, pretending as if his heart didn’t skip a few beats at the sweet tone used. “You don’t like being called baby? How about good boy, I bet you love that one?” George would be lying if double hit combo of pet names didn’t fill him with joy and...something else. “Dream…”

“Call me Clay.”

George’s eyes widened as he stared at his phone, his heart breaking a piece of his ribs every time it pounded against them. Not often did George have the opportunity to address his best friend by his given name, considering most of their life was monitored by the internet. Even in the moments where it was just them, he still called the younger by his screen name, the gesture ingrained into the deepest part of his mind for the past five years. 

It was silly to be excited to have the time to do something this intimate. 

“Okay...Clay.”

George didn’t need to see the other’s face to know he was smiling.

“Good boy, following directions so well.”

George was brought back into the reality of this phone call at full force, the pet name lulling him into headspace of some sort. “Thank you…” He didn’t know what to do in this predicament, nor what to say. He was never good with words in a rational state of mind, who says that he was amazing with them in a aroused state of mind? “Of course, baby.” George let out a hum as an easy response, listening to the way Dre—Clay breathed in preparation of his next set of words.

“Did you have any...issues during the stream because of my words?” 

George couldn’t help the scoff that escaped his lips, thinking the questions were rather ridiculous considering where they were now. “Of course I did. Why’d you think I went quiet towards the end of the stream?” The older man’s voice was sharp, snarky almost, as he finished his thought. Clay didn’t seem to care that much, laughing quietly at the slight aggression of his partner. “It was just a question, you didn’t have to go so defensive. I’m assuming you’re having those same issues now?” 

George mumbled the words “no shit sherlock” underneath his breath, unaware that it was loud enough for the other man to pick up on. “You better watch your mouth, George.” Clay was no longer laughing, tone sounding as serious as George had heard it this entire night. “I can take a little bit of sass, but if you want me to help you, I want you to be as complicit as possible. Do you understand me?” 

The blond’s tone never wavered, and George was sure that if he was able to see his face that his eyes would be dead locked onto his own. George didn’t know why his cock twitched at the bare minimum, being told to be good should not have left such an effect on him. “Mhm…” George finally replied with, playing with his fingers to distract himself from the growing problem he was dealing with.

“That’s not an answer, baby.”

“Yes, I understand…”

Clay had let out a short breath of pride. “Good boy.”

He was aware he’s heard it multiple times tonight, but he doesn’t think he was able to get over the praise. “Can you lay down for me, if you aren’t already?” George didn’t give the man anymore shit for his upcoming demands, knowing full well that now was not the time if he wanted to get off. He lied down with his face next to the phone, the position he was in previously before their confrontation. “I’m laying down.” He provided to the other, chest buzzing with excitement. This was really happening, holy shit. 

“Alright...now, just follow my instructions as much as possible. I’m putting a lot of trust in you that you’ll listen to me and be a good baby.” Clay murmured, his voice soft and gentle as he spoke to George. The British man loved it almost as much as he loved the stern timbre from before. “I’ll be good, I promise.” The brunet tried to match the other’s tonality, voice bridging on becoming that of a whisper. “I know, I’m just making sure.” George’s lips formed a smile.

“I want you to take one of your hands and slide it up the side of your jaw, can you do that for me?” Clay had asked, the output from the speaker tickling the older man’s ear. George let out a soft giggle at the feeling, it was almost like the man was here whispering such words in his ear. Nonetheless, George followed his given instructions, his right hand reaching across his face to cup his own jaw gently. “Once you’ve done that, why don’t you bring your thumb to your pretty lips.” The eldest felt his face heat up in real time, bringing the thumb that was resting against his chin up to his bottom lip. His lips parted on their own, aware of the partial intrusion that was sitting there. “Can you describe how they feel to me, George?” Clay asked after a moment, George resisting the urge to whine at the use of his real name. He followed what he was asked to do, quickly swiping his thumb over the plumpness of his own lips. 

“Well they aren’t chapped...soft even…” He mumbled, his thumb far from ceasing its movement. He failed to mention the bitten parts of skin,though they weren’t too much of a distraction from the rest of the remaining skin. “I always imagined you were the type to have soft lips...they would feel good anywhere.” Clay hummed, George’s breath hitching slightly. “Really?” He asked, looking over at the phone next to him. “Yes, baby. Anytime I can see your face, I can never look away from your lips. Something about them just draws me in.” The blond continued to speak. “I think they were the start of my silly urges.”

George didn’t really have to ask what Clay was referring to, but confirmation never hurt anyone. “What urges…?” He whispered, thumb stilling for a split second. Clay was quiet for a moment, as if he was debating on the right words to say. “There are many but since we’re here because of one of them in particular, I guess we can elaborate on that.” The blond settled with before just blurting out. “You have a very fuckable face.”

George’s thighs pressed against each other _hard._ He wasn’t aware if he could touch more than his lips at this very moment but he needed some sort of friction. Even if the blunt words embarrassed him to the highest extent, they left such a needed effect on his body physically and emotionally. “I do?”

“Yes, god yes. There are days where the only thing that can get me going is the thought of you on your knees, letting me use your mouth as I pleased.” The blond sighed, his sheets shuffling against the mic from his own movements. George took the opportunity to bite the thumb resting in his mouth, tongue darting out to trace the lines of his skin. The British man didn’t think there were words in any dictionary that could describe how _badly_ he wanted such a thing to occur. Being used as nothing but a toy, an _object,_ to Clay seemed like the ideal reality of the brunet’s thoughts. “You’re good with your mouth I bet, yeah?” Clay’s tone has gotten quieter, even breathier. 

_Was he touching himself?_

George let out a quiet hum, deciding not to mention it as he replied. “I’ve been told I have a good tongue…” He whispered, thumb still hanging off his lip while he spoke. George’s lips quirked up when they heard a soft groan come from the other side of the phone. “Do you now, baby? I think I would have to be the judge of that.” The younger man was obviously trying to hide his bodies of arousal with breathless chuckles. “I’ll allow you to judge my skills then, Clay.”

George suppressed the giggle in the back of his throat at the small sputter of words the blond man let out at the use of his name. “Something wrong?” He asked sweetly, well aware of what had happened. Teasing the other was just fun, even in a situation such as this. “N-No I’m good. Um, have you started touching yourself yet?” Clay asked, trying to deter the conversation back to the original topic. George, truthful as ever, answered with a quick no. “Do I have permission to?” He added after a beat of silence. 

“Considering you haven’t done it without my knowledge, I would say you—“

The brunet didn’t even wait for the other to finish, his free hand going down to the band of his sweatpants. He had been on and off hard for the past hour and a half, he didn’t think he could last another moment without direct stimulation. His hand slithered underneath the waistband of both his sweats and boxers, resting on the pad of skin before the base of his own cock. Before he gave himself some relief, he spoke up. 

“Have you started...you know…as well?” He asked. It was silly, the chances of the other touching himself right now were as high as possible. He just didn’t want to be the only one vulnerable in this situation like this without complete reassurance.. Clay seemed to understand, a tiny groan slipping through the Brit’s phone speaker. “Yeah...have been since um, you touching your lips.” 

“Yeah?” George whispered back, the hesitant hand down his pants now wrapping itself around his neglected cock, the sigh of relief slipping from his mouth without much thought. Clay seemed to share the Brit’s sentiment, letting out a sigh of his own. “Mhm, I couldn’t help it...the image of you just touching your lips became a bit too much…” George could pick up on the subtle skin slapping noises in the background of the call, unaware if they were coming from his or Clay. “That was enough to get you to jerk off? You have a lip kink or something?” The brunet jokes, his thumb coming up to tease the slit of his leaking tip, whine heavy on his lip. “Maybe...or I just have a George k-kink.” The American attempted to joke, whispering a curse at the older man’s noises. “T-That’s a thing?” George shot back, the loose fist fitting around him tightening slightly. His thighs shook at the sensation, his head throwing itself back. “F-Fuck, Clay…” 

“You sound s-so pretty when you say my name like that…” The groan sat heavy on the brunet’s ears, eyes closed as he focused on the feeling shooting through his nerves. “Say it a-again, baby. _Please.”_ This time, the whine didn’t come from the older man, instead it came from the younger, who’s easier dominance seemed to be long forgotten. The noises coming through the phone speaker were obscene, sloppy skin on skin contact paired with pants and groans of the American were inescapable at this point. George seemed to be lost in the pleasure for the both of them, wanting nothing more to please them both into a sense of euphoria. 

So with little hesitation, he fulfilled his partner’s request. “C-Clay, Clay, Cl— fuck— Clay—“ Like a prayer, the brunet kept repeating the other’s name. Renditions were tied in with multiple swears, and pleas of the American’s touch. His mind was too foggy to think remotely clearly, to give a fuck about anyone who still might be up in his house listening in on what the man was babbling on about. He was sure Clay went any better, curses and grunts now protruding from the small device laid next to the British man. Small mantras of the words “baby” and “George” were thrown in for the most part, overlapping the brunet’s own voice. 

In short, it was a hot and heavy mess. Both men were chasing their orgasms without any other thought. “I-I want you t-to, fuck, stay true to your w-words.” George whimpered, slowing his hand down to drag out his much needed release. He just didn’t want this moment to be over. “W-Which ones?” The blond asked, the sounds from before not as loud as they were before. George assumed he was doing the same thing he was, relishing this moment as much as possible. “T-The ones about finishing on m-my freckles...I want t-to feel you cum all over my f-face…” The eldest man panted into the microphone, fist speeding up once more. “You’d let me?” The American sounded shocked at the confession, his own speed not picking up just yet. George wanted to make sure the other man heard every noise he produce, his whine following soon after his confession. “Fuck y-yeah. I’d let you c-cum anywhere on me...mark me and everything…” He whispered. He couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his own mouth, but he honestly couldn't find it in him to care.

“G-George…” Clay whimpered, his breathing becoming even more ragged than before. George could tell he was getting close, and it seemed like the blond was as well. “P-Please Clay? Please, p-please, cum _all_ over what’s _yours.”_ The Brit knew he was exaggerating at this point, but an exaggeration can’t exist without a little bit of truth, right? 

“George..” Clay felt his body shake in anticipation of what was to come 

_So close…_

“I-Inside or out, I-I don’t care, just—“ George couldn’t help the babbling. 

_So very close..._

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna—“ Clay tried giving a warning. 

_“M-Make me pretty, Clay.”_

George didn’t know who came first from their intense build up, all he knew was that his body relaxed before his brain could process what had happened. The last thing the brunet could pick up before his mind rebooted itself was the grunt of his name over the phone speaker. His face muscles were only able to pull a small smile on his lips before they went lax, his lungs crying out for breath in deep intervals. He couldn’t tell you the amount of time that passed between the time he clocked out and the time he clocked back in, only rising up after his brain felt clear. 

When he did, he didn’t expect his best friend to still be on the phone, and asleep. He also didn’t expect the time to be five hours after the fact. 

_Did I go into an orgasm coma?_

He questioned himself, the hand that currently wasn’t shoved in his pants (he seriously couldn’t take the time to take his hand out of his pants before he passed out?) was reaching for the phone. Again, his screen was still on FaceTime with Dream, who was dead asleep by the sounds of the snores that were coming though the call. The man still stayed with him even after phone sex AND after the brunet passed out. George felt his heart warm at the thought. 

He then went to go look at his messages, which were also plagued with the presence of Dream. 

_dream :)_

_did you pass out?_

_dream :)_

_you passed out with your dick juice in your hand? bro_

George really wanted to wake up the other man and yell at him for his stupid messages alone. However, the blond managed to save his ass with a few more texts. 

_dream :)_

_just make sure you clean yourself when you wake up. also drink water, if you passed out from the orgasm you’re gonna be dehydrated as soon as you’re awake_

_dream :)_

_i’m gonna stay on call with you just in case you wake up and think i just left after all this_

_dream :)_

_i just don’t want you being alone after this emotional mess_

_dream :)_

_if it’s very confusing for me i’m assuming it’s a shitstorm for you_

George scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it..” He mumbled to himself. 

_dream :)_

_whenever you wake up just wake me up so we can talk, alright?_

_dream :)_

_good night georgie_

_dream :)_

_or good morning, depending on when you see these_

_dream :)_

_ily <3 _

George, amongst the other things, realized something while reading these text messages. Dream was extremely talkative post orgasm. Which wasn’t that unusual, but given the circumstances, George couldn’t say he blamed him. Other than that, the brunet wanted to know how he got lucky with such an amazing person in his life. He was sure if he did this with anyone else that there wouldn’t even be text messages explaining much of anything. Yet here Dream, no, _Clay,_ was, once again, was surpassing the norms with relative ease. 

A snore from the blond startled the brunet back to reality, face tilted downwards towards the screen. Only then did he realize that Clay had shifted his camera. Instead of a shot of a wall or random black screen, George’s eyes were met with the bare bicep of the sleeping figure, face hidden underneath the muscle and a mop of hair. George’s eyes went wide at the sight. He could not see his face at all, yet seeing him in such a state felt more special than anything of that caliber. He must’ve set up his camera like that before he fell asleep, meaning he wanted George to see him like this. He wanted George to see him this vulnerable. 

The British man figured he needed to clean up before he spent the rest of his day here admiring his best friend. Even after he finished that process, he had come back to that sleeping form on his phone, unmoving and peaceful. 

George knew he had a lot to talk about with Clay regarding their relationship, especially after last night’s encounter, but he didn’t want to wake the other man just yet. Instead, he wanted to stay here in this moment, on this FaceTime call, counting the freckles on this perfect man’s arms. 

And you know what? He did just that. 

And he was perfectly okay with that. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi. 
> 
> so i haven’t wrote proper smut in over a year so this was kind of a warm up for the possible smut that will be written in my main story (teacher’s pet) so there’s that. also didn’t expect it to be 8,000 words long whatsoever, i actually wanted it to cut off at 4,000 but as you can see...that did not happen. my friend says it’s because of my pisces venus and it’s need to write so much tension before the main course and they might be right about that.
> 
> this also was supposed to be posted on valentine’s day but texas decided to get hit by a fuck ton of snow so i’ve been without stable internet which is always great. also i’ve been playing minecraft with the homies and catching up on school work since this will probably be my only down time for a while. 
> 
> enough about my personal life though, i hope you guys enjoyed this and i would love to see your support in any way possible. thank you so much for giving this a read <3


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